I find myself using a nonverbal Brokieism . . . After Alma says "You got a postcard. It come general delivery," Ennis whirls around to pick it up off the kitchen table. I find myself whirling in my tiny galley kitchen from one side to the other exactly in this way . . . did I always do this, I wonder? It's got to the point where I cannot turn from the stove to the sink without seeing that scene in my mind's eye . . . .